Behind Brown Eyes
by Cynthia Arrow
Summary: Is it possible to write a JackSayid slash story? Well, come and see. You might be pleasantly surprised.


Disclaimer: I don't own them, and I certainly make no money off them.

Rating: T, for a couple words and some innuendo.

Note: Anyone notice how little Jack/Sayid stuff there is out there? In fact, I don't believe I've ever seen a single story pairing them. I suppose a relationship with either one has to have Sawyer in it to have heat. Well, I set out to see if that was true. Turns out Jack and Sayid are just a little mushy and serious, but they're not exactly passionless.

This takes place sometimes after the second Jin/Sun episode, "..In Translation." We're just gonna ignore Sayid's fascination with Shannon that crops up in that episode.

Behind Brown Eyes

Jack awoke to a dull headache and the confusing realization that he was laying on a cave floor and didn't know how he'd gotten there. He slowly opened his eyes to see Sun staring over him, smiling.

"Are you okay?"

His voice forced itself out of his throat: "Yeah. I think. What happened?"

Before she could answer, he heard footsteps and Sayid's bronze face soon hovered above him. "So you're awake," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Okay, I guess." He tried to sit up, but he could feel pain bouncing through his brain, with a regular pace and alternating jolts, like a hard-driven game of racquetball, so he lay back down, Sayid putting a hand on his arm to steady him. Despite his headache and his disorientation, he keenly felt the touch and registered it like he would have a touch of Cara Rollins, his first crush, or David Nelson, his first male crush. That's what his feelings for Sayid surely were: a crush, blissful and completely lacking in expectation of anything. Admiration was enough, though it felt heavy sometimes. Nonetheless, you'd never really want to give it up, even if it haunted, like Sayid's deep brown eyes did. What was so haunting was the coolness, so intentionally and resolutely sad. It evoked pain and stoicism at that same time. It was as if Sayid were simply destined for unhappiness and would wearily live with it. What little warmth he showed was like a gift, brief and dazzling.

Sayid's gaze now let slip a relieved smile for a moment, although it faded quickly. He said, "Locke and Boone found you in the jungle and carried you back here. We think you fell and hit your head."

"Okay. Probably a concussion." In the back of his mind, he registered the need to stay awake, if he did indeed have a concussion. The forefront of his mind was concentrating on Sayid's perfectly sculpted shoulder. And he couldn't help but notice all the people milling around nearby, worried about him.

Sayid said, "I do not know why they called me. I suppose they misunderstand my very limited medical training."

Sun made a soft chuckling noise under her breath. "They were afraid."

Jack said, "So they went to find the person they trusted the most."

Sayid narrowed his eyes, clearly confused. "A standoffish Arab who tortured a man for no good reason?"

Jack said, "A man who wanted to protect someone, but who hated how he went about it enough to leave camp. Besides, they never stopped trusting me, and if I had the guts I would have been the one to torture Sawyer myself."

Sun left them alone then, sensing something in that way she had of understanding what was left unsaid. Jack managed to pull himself into a sitting position, slowly and with Sayid's hand firmly gripping his arm. Sayid's eyes searched his, but he didn't speak. He also didn't leave.

Jack said, "How long was I out?"

"An hour or two. You were in and out of consciousness when they brought you here." Sayid sat down near his feet, his eyes still trained on Jack, a look of curiosity and concern mixed.

He could remember it now, in bits and pieces like a dream: his foot sliding out from under him, Locke's intense but calm voice deftly smoothing Boone's nerves, the feel of water hitting his face, confused voices. Those things had been just on the periphery of his consciousness when he awoke. But there was something else he didn't realize until he was looking at Sayid, hearing him speak. It was clear, suddenly: Sayid's lips at his ear, his voice of strained steadiness stretched over a definite well of panic, "you would not do this to us…you will not leave us…dammit, Jack…" Then less angry and more pleading, he was telling him to come back, to stay awake, to open his…"beautiful brown eyes…I will not leave you, Jack…and so you will not leave me for too long…"

Sayid laid his hand on Jack's knee and asked him, "Do you remember anything?"

He sat up, more than a little anxious to be that much closer to Sayid, almost hoping to feel another hand of fire, this one on his face. "Should I?" he asked. He really needed to know. Did Sayid want him to remember what he'd said? For that matter, was he even remembering it right?

"That depends."

"On?"

"If you meant to kiss me."

Jack felt a flush creep over his face, and he didn't look Sayid in the eye. Miserably, he said, "Sayid, I'm so sorry…I would never have done that on purpose…I must have been delirious…"

Then he looked up, and Sayid's hand reached out to touch his face. He said, "Relax, Jack. You did not kiss me. I don't think you even knew where you were, but you recognized me for some reason. You asked me not to leave you. I have not." With a faint caress, he pulled his hand away.

Jack's heart hammered through his chest and down into his gut. He pondered his next words carefully. "I don't remember that. I only remember beautiful brown eyes."

Sayid stole a glance at the crowd of castaways behind him, held back only by the force of their respect for Jack and their relative fear of Sayid. He bent down to Jack's ear and said in an unmistakably intimate tone, "You were quite confused before. Are you still confused?"

Jack raised his head to eye the crowd, leaning in to touch his lips to Sayid's ear as he said, "No."

Sayid turned his head and pressed a quick, soft kiss to Jack's neck, just to the right of his adam's apple. "Good."

When Sayid pulled back, the look on his face was inscrutable. Jack knew it would remain so until they could be alone.

Suddenly impatient, Jack said, "Why are there so many people here?"

"They were worried about you. I have not succeeded in getting rid of them." After a moment's pause, he reached out his hand to Jack and said, "Can you stand up?"

"I think so. Let's try it, anyway."

Sayid pulled him to his feet, supporting him steadily but without touching him too much. Leading him through a crowd of well-wishers, all with questions, he said in an exasperated voice, "Please. The man has to piss."

Once they wove into the jungle and away from the eyes and ears of the cavers, Jack said, "Piss?"

"That is the correct expression, is it not?"

Jack laughed. "Yeah. Sayid…"

But the other man had turned and put his hand over Jack's mouth, lightly, his other hand resting on Jack's chest. Jack was surprised to realize he had a good five or six inches on Sayid. It was as if his presence made him seem taller than the diminutive figure he clearly was, compact and strong, now looking up into Jack's eyes. He said, "I don't know. Whatever you want to ask me, I don't know. I have some very strong physical feelings for you. I felt you shared those, but I didn't know, which is why I accused you of kissing me and had the pleasure of seeing you blush. But, please, do not ask me what this is."

It was remarkable, Jack thought, how many different shades of brown Sayid's eyes could be. He didn't show desperation in his face, really; anything but reserve or mild amusement would have seemed odd. But Jack recognized well that his eyes were now the deep chocolate color of lust. It was a sight he never thought he'd see directed at him, because apparently he'd misread Sayid. A man of reserve himself, who had trained his own brown eyes to reflect the world like a mirror when he needed to be the detached and controlled doctor, he marveled that he hadn't recognized deliberate the coolness in Sayid's expression when he saw it.

Jack kissed the palm of his hand, and he took it away. Jack said, "I wouldn't have thought…well, a lot of things. But what I don't get… Everything I've done since day one, you've thought it was wrong."

"Not everything. Perhaps sometimes I hate what your being right means. And, to be clear, I sometimes disagree with your choices, but I have absolute faith in your motivations. But that has nothing to do with this."

"With what?"

It had been an invitation, and Sayid was certainly not obtuse. With his hands on either side of Jack's face, tilting it down gently, Sayid moved his lips close enough to barely brush Jack's, and he said, "I did not realize until today how much I depend on your existence on this island, even so far away at the caves, to keep me sane."

He still didn't kiss him, so Jack bent his lips to Sayid's ear and said, "That's funny, because your existence on this island, even out at the beach, has a way of driving me crazy."

Jack could feel Sayid's grin, and Sayid kissed him rather suddenly, his mouth sliding slowly over Jack's, the kiss deep enough to send a jolt of heat straight to his groin but also a shock of pain to his head. Ignoring his head for a moment, he cautiously slipped his tongue into Sayid's mouth, and he was rewarded with an increase in intensity that made his whole body throb, but most of all his head. Within another few seconds, he reluctantly broke the kiss, saying, "Shit."

Sayid's face flashed between amusement and concern.

Jack said, "That was…so fucking nice, really. But it feels like someone's kicking me in the back of the head."

Sayid smiled, his eyes still a deep coffee color. He slid his arms under Jack's, pulling their bodies together, and Jack gave a short gasp to feel their hardness, the friction of his jeans and Sayid's khakis making him want to grind his hips against Sayid's, although both men stood firmly in that position, feeling their pulses pound through their bodies.

Sayid said, "I wouldn't think you had enough blood going to your head to cause a problem." Their bodies relaxed, but they stayed in their embrace. Kissing Jack softly, a kiss very obviously restrained in deference to Jack's concussion, Sayid said, "Let's get you back to your adoring public so that you can rest."

"Will you go back to the beach?"

"I said I wouldn't leave you."

"It's okay. You can—"

Sayid kissed him lightly to shut him up. "I will stay until you're well. But I still believe the beach is where I need to be. I cannot change who I am, even for you."

"Do you think I want you to?" Jack asked him, wrinkling his forehead with confusion.

Sayid laugh was short and musical. "No. No more than you would change for me."

"Who says we have to?"

"Indeed."

Once again, Sayid walked in front of Jack, threading a path through the trees. Jack's head throbbed until it nearly made him dizzy, but he concentrated on the ghosts of Sayid's touch—his lips and hands and thighs and stomach, on his face and neck and back and groin. He wanted to curse his headache, for the hot crush of bodies that it had stopped and the ache that it left in his chest. But he had to be just a little glad. Sayid's eyes were like a two-way mirror, now. It was like Sayid had turned on a light inside himself, and now Jack could see into his eyes as through a clear pane of glass. It made him wonder just how long Sayid had been able to look into his eyes that way and see his soul. He smiled to himself, knowing it didn't really matter.


End file.
